Date: Mon, 26 Mar 2007 12:10:14 -0700 (PDT)
From: Matt Wess
Subject: Michael: Part Five
Michael stopped, and watched Adam lighting a cigarette. He struck
the match slowly, and lit-up with care, so that the cigarette, now that
Adam had set his mind to lighting it, didn't stand a chance. It was a
slow operation, like making it through a Monday filled with school. He
threw the match down and looked up before continuing his journey. "What
do you say," Adam said, as the three of them descended down the front
steps of the school. "We should go find Professor Gordis's car and trash
it."
Macy blinked against the smoke. "Are you still stuck on that?
What good will trashing his car do? Get you a better grade? And you
know there is no tobacco products allowed on school grounds."
"It's called projection," Adam said indignantly, ignoring her last
comment. "I have hatred for the man so I go a project my hatred on his
car, instead of him, but if he's in the car while I'm doing it then
that's just an added bonus."
"He probably takes a bus from the old-folks home," Michael offered
slyly and even Macy got a laugh out of that. "Much good it will do
trashing a bus filled with old people."
The elated feeling that was spreading through their bodies quickly
evaporated. All three of them stopped in their tracks.
They saw a police officer coming down the yard, walking with an
authority motion, heading in their direction. The man took three
calculated strides towards them. Most of the focus was on Adam, standing
mutely in between Michael and Macy.
"Toss it out!" Michael said, softening before the display of an
authority figure approaching them quickly, but it was too late. Before
the cigarette even found the underside of Adam's foot the policeman was
standing before them looking at them suspiciously. Michael considered
casually dodging the officer as though he had not noticed him, but that
man was the size of Carlos and saying that you didn't see him is like
saying you didn't see an elephant.
"Well," said the officer, waiting for an explanation. When an
explanation never came he signaled to the sign that was within two feet
of them. It was a picture of a cigarette with an X through it.
Michael's stomach sunk for Adam. "No smoking on school grounds. I think
that's something everyone can learn."
"Officer," Macy said, slowly. "I don't really think you should
hold it against him. I mean we're practically off of school grounds
already. Also, the student hand book says that a warning comes first. .
." her voice drifted off as Adam held up his hand to stop her.
"This is my third warning," he said in a defeated tone. Well after
that piece of evidence was revealed there was nothing much they could
do. Adam merely shrugged his shoulders and followed the officer back
into the school. Michael couldn't tell, but he was pretty sure that Adam
had given the officer his own personal sign.
A soft drizzling rain fell as Michael and Macy hurried down the
sidewalk. Macy had prophesied rain and she turned out to be right.
Neither one of them were easier in the mind now that Adam had his third
offense. What made things ten times worse was the fact that Adam's
parents did not know of his smoking habit. Michael knew that Adam's
mother was a big advocate for anti-smoking after having lost her own
parents to lung cancer.
"Now their own son," Michael said, shaking his head. The wind bit
through both of them as they took their time walking around the block.
"Well, it's a nasty habit and he shouldn't do it in the first
place," Macy said gravely. She shoved her hands in her pockets. "Do you
think they'll call his parents?"
"Adam couldn't pay them enough to not call. They get a joy out of
this. Sticking their nose in personal business." At this answer Macy
shook her head from side to side. Although it was midday, the light
through the rain clouds was abysmal. Shafts of sunlight bled through the
minimal spacing in the dense clouds. They traveled in silence, musing
over the possibilities that will happen to Adam.
The two of them turned the corner and saw the apartment building
marking the place where Michael lived. He couldn't stand silence
himself, but it wasn't everyday a close friend of his was taken in by the
authorities. At the entrance to the building they bid their farewells
and went their own way.
Michael silently trudged up the stairs, hands in pockets, nodding
absentmindedly towards his neighbor, an eighty some year old woman who
lived with eighty some cats. There was once a story where all eighty
cats had escaped into the apartment building and it took the whole staff
nearly all day to bring each cat back. Every so often Michael would hear
the soft purr while lying in bed and he would wonder what it would be
like to have a pet.
The door to the apartment was unlock, which was a change. Just
yesterday he had come home only to find that they had purposefully locked
him out. It's a cruel world, Michael thought, but only for the second
that you weaken.
Rosa and Aunt Maude were sitting around the kitchen table
conversing about some lady being pregnant with twins. The conversation
really did not interest Michael to any degree, and even if it had he
probably wouldn't bother to sit down with them and try to have a decent
chat. He said his brief hello, answered their question about how school
was, agreed that his scar was looking better, and then took off for his
room, biting into an apple.
He lay down on his bed, eating the apple pensively, while gazing up
at the ceiling. He thought more about Adam and the trouble that was on
the horizon, he thought about graduation, and by the time his mind
reached Dylan he had already placed his apple aside.
His hands moved quickly over his belt buckle, loosening it,
unbuttoning and unzipping his pants. For a moment or two he lay there
staring at his boxer briefs and the bulge available. He remembered
seeing Dylan in a similar image. Michael began to work his hands deftly
through his waistband and found his now hard penis. It stuck vertically
in the air, pointing towards the grooves in the ceiling.
Fantasies began to corrupt his mind. Dylan and him in a hot tub in
the middle of a wintry forest, both of them were wearing Speedos that
showed their packages. Michael reached under the hot, steamy water and
felt his way up Dylan's muscular leg until he found the sensual curves of
his teenage testicles. Dylan was encouraging him as snow began to
faintly fall, falling faintly around them. Michael leaned forward and
planted a kiss on Dylan's lips, his chest, and then disappeared
underwater where his teeth tugged at the edge of Dylan's Speedo...
Suddenly at climax, Michael was yanked out of the fantasy, his body
tensed, shuttered, and then relaxed as fluid gushed from the head of his
penis. Then, as though nothing had happened, he zipped back up, rolled
over to his side and thought about reality again.
He was standing in the school yard with Macy and Adam. Just like
this afternoon, and Michael was sure that any three of them would do
anything to rewind that time. Adam was dragging on his usual cigarette
when Professor Gordis casually drove his Ferrari across the school yard
dodging students, and then at the sight of Adam, his eyes narrowed down
to slits from behind his bifocals.
"Make a death threat towards me, Mr. Liebowitz, I think not!"
Gordis was shouting. His $250,000 car leapt to life and came careening
towards the pair of them, though it was targeted directly at Adam.
Vengeance was written across the face of their teacher as he floored it,
the beautiful engine roaring. Michael was trying to get Adam out of the
way of the car, but mental paralysis kept Adam routed there, staring open
mouth at the speeding car that was within feet, inches, and then
centimeters. Michael was bellowing, wishing he could stop the car, but
it seemed fate was taking control. . .
Michael bolted up right in bed, panting heavily. A cold, clammy
sweat broke out across his forehead as he replayed his dream over and
over again. The images were vivid at first, but became vaguer as the
surroundings of reality came back into focus. He wasn't sure at what
time he fell asleep exactly and it wasn't until later when he was
scrounging through the refrigerator for dinners left over that he
discovered the source that woke him up.
"I attempted to wake you up for dinner," Rosa said, rinsing the
last few dinner dishes, and then handed them over to Aunt Maude. It was
her job to dry the dishes, and then place them delicately away. "But you
told me you weren't hungry," Rosa continued. There was something about
the curtness of her tone that made Michael wonder, but he didn't pursue
the matter. There were a lot of things that could easily set Rosa over
the edge. "I see you're hungry now."
Michael nodded, as he placed a few slices of salami on rye bread,
"Good observation. Now, you'll see me leaving the room."
"Interestingly enough, Mrs. Liebowitz called tonight." Michael
stopped short, but did not turn to face her or Aunt Maude. "She got our
number from Adam, who seems to be in a heap of trouble."
Michael closed his eyes slowly, taking a deep breath. He knew
where this conversation was going. "I suppose she told you everything,
then."
"Oh, she didn't tell me anything. Carlos answered the phone and
talked to her and then he relayed the information to me." She paused
drastically and took the time to turn off the water. "Maude," Rosa said
slowly, "did you know it's a proven fact that nicotine cancels out the
user's appetite for food."
He whirled around, clutching onto his plate firmly. "You have to
be kidding me!" Rage was beginning to spread through his body, a
familiar feeling. "I suppose you all are going to assume I'm a part of
this! Just because I'm friends with him!"
"The assumption is strong, Chico," Aunt Maude said in a would-be
soothing tone. "Your clothes do smell and your appetite is diminishing."
Michael slammed his plate down onto the dinner table, having
completely lost his appetite. "Great, I'm glad that you were able to
finalize for me that you jackasses are able to jump to quick
conclusions." The moment it left his mouth, he wanted to take the words
right back but it was too late. He knew it was a mistake to say anything
more.
Aunt Maude's eyes turned into dangerous black slits. "Michael Alan
Douglas!" she yelled, using his full real name. "I will NOT tolerate you
talking like that to either of us, especially while it's in my house.
He felt the wind rushing around his hot ears. Michael jerked his
head around and stormed off, knocking into Joseph, who spilt his bowl of
soup that was supposed to cure his cold.
"Aii-ya!" Aunt Maude cried. Luke warm soup spilt down to the
already stained carpet. As people scuttled to clean up the mess, Michael
took off for his room. Slamming the door behind him. He plopped face
down on his bed, fuming. Every single person he lived with was naive,
and he would give anything to leave them behind.
Suddenly, the phone began to ring off the hook. As though the
phone was screaming through the apartment. In a fleeting rush, Michael
scrambled back off his bed and dashed for the phone, but by the time he
got there Rosa had already snatched it up. Michael stood directly behind
her, breathing down her neck, listening to the other side of the
conversation. Shortly after answering, she turned to face Michael and
handed him the phone.
"It's Adam," she said, not bothering to hide the hint of disdain in
her voice. She probably felt that he shouldn't be talking to him, but
Michael didn't care.
The moment he answered the phone, he could tell by the sound of
Adam's voice that there was something wrong. He was breathing heavily,
and it almost sounded like he was running. "Michael," he panted. "Can
you meet me outside? I'm heading towards your place now." Michael
agreed to meet him outside wondering what on earth was wrong now.
By common consent everyone in the kitchen- Rosa, Aunt Maude,
Joseph, and now Carlos came wandering in- behaved as though Michael was
an escaped convict. There they stood patiently listening to his side of
the conversation, ready to jump on him the moment he hung up.
As it turned out only Rosa asked several questions after he hung up
that pertained to the telephone conversation. Michael answered only one
question-"where are you going?" He headed for the door saying curtly,
"None of your business."
It took Michael all of two minutes to reach the outdoors. It was
dark, devoid of life, because of the heavy downpour that scared people
into seeking refuge inside. He hurried down to the curve, already soaked
to the skin. His shaggy hair was plastered down. Michel searched up and
down the street looking for Adam.
To his right a black cat prowled the streets, limping slightly. He
only had brief sympathy for the injured cat. To his left, illuminated by
the dull street lamp materialized the figure of Adam. Michael hurried
over to greet him and noticed what was wrong right away. "Oh shit,"
Michael muttered at the sight of his injured friend.